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Criticism of Prison Break/Season 1
This article is down per episode or per review as season. Entertainment Weekly Reviewed by: Gillian Flynn To fully embrace Fox's incredibly entertaining Prison Break, one must first forgive the ludicrous premise: Structural engineer Michael Scofield (The Human Stain's Wentworth Miller) robs a bank in order to land in the penitentiary where his brother, Lincoln (Dominic Purcell), is on death row. Lincoln says he's innocent of murdering the brother of the U.S. vice president. Michael plans to bust him out; as fortune has it, he worked for the firm that designed the prison. Let's pause, laugh, and salute this series for being so well shot and acted that these little dragonflies of illogic buzz us only briefly. (But seriously, how lucky for Michael that he was sent to this particular prison — otherwise we'd be watching him in Leavenworth hitting his head and muttering Stupidstupidstupid! for five years.) As it is, Prison Break has the dark social hierarchies of Oz and the clever inventions of Escape From Alcatraz. Michael's plan involves blackmailing an incarcerated mobster (Peter Stormare); befriending a man believed to be the legendary D.B. Cooper (Muse Watson); and charming the do-good prison doctor (Sarah Wayne Callies), who happens to be the daughter of a tough Illinois governor. On the outside, Lincoln's ex-girlfriend, lawyer Veronica (Robin Tunney), begins digging into who would want to frame Lincoln, and why. (Hint: The case screams government conspiracy.) That's really only half of the crafty rat's nest of plotlines introduced in the first two hours (starting at 8 p.m. on Aug. 29). Prison delights in these intricacies: The camera, for instance, swoops in and out of Michael's full-torso tattoo, in which he's embedded names, numbers, and an entire blueprint of the prison. The series' writers dearly love that gothic swirl of ink on flesh: In one scene, Michael whittles away at a special screw he's acquired to help him unbolt his toilet. When it looks the correct size, he presses its circumference against a dark circle tattoed on his arm to see if it matches. Rather than just putting it in the bolt he's sitting next to. (Oh, the buzzing is back...) But such minor silliness is easily dismissed — especially in the wake of the previous, unsettling scene, set in Chicago's Jaume Plensa-designed Crown Fountain, which is bookended by giant screens on which video faces flicker. As Tunney milks information from a nervous woman who fears she's been targeted by government hitmen, the video faces ominously blink and stare in the background, Blade Runner-style. So moody and unironic is Prison Break that one can even get spooked by clichés like the white supremacist (Robert Knepper) out to hurt Michael, armed with Rod Steiger's In the Heat of the Night accent. The supporting cast is worthy of boasting: Tunney has the wit and wariness of a roughed-up bunny, Stacy Keach is suitably growly as the warden, and Amaury Nolasco (2 Fast 2 Furious) plays Michael's cellmate with dashing sidekick appeal. But it's Miller's show. His Michael Scofield has the silky voice of a sociopath, the resigned stance of a long-distance runner, and the deadpan delivery of Macaulay Culkin at his Uncle Buckbest. Who knew Prison could provide such a charming host? ew.com Gives a: C+ Village voice Review by: Joy Press Toto, we're not in Oz anymore. Prison Break is the first new jail series in a while, but it's neither gritty nor graphic. There's no blaring soundtrack or bone-crunching violence in the premiere, just the hushed impression that something clever is about to unfurl. The intricate plot is set in motion by Michael Scofield, a handsome executive who walks into a bank and starts shooting. He deliberately breaks into jail so that he can free his own brother, Lincoln, who's on his way to the electric chair for murdering the vice president's brother. Impossible? Not if you happen to be the structural engineer who designed the penitentiary. Unfortunately, Prison Break's dialogue is nowhere near as sharp as its plotting. (For instance, the inmates call Lincoln "Linc the Sink" because "he'll come at you with everything but the kitchen.") Scofield's scheme draws on a throng of thugs who don't even know they're involved, as well as the inadvertent assistance of the eccentric warden, played by Stacy Keach. Like Lost, Prison Break is tethered to a seemingly unsustainable premise—but since that show managed to spin one ludicrous idea into a delicious debut season, I'll give these cons a chance to prove that it's not jailhouse schlock. villagevoice.com Seattle Post-Intelligencer Reviewed by: Melanie McFarland WHAT A SHAME. It looked like it had potential, too. No doubt about it, "Prison Break's" first hour had the air of a series that was going places. Places like critics' lists of best new shows and proclamations of fan addiction on message boards. Then Fox gave us the second and third hours, which should have seized the pilot's energy and escalated from there. Instead, they gave us a sense of what it's like to stare down a weighty sentence -- a serious drag. Much in the way Fox launched "The O.C." early in its virgin season, "Prison Break" jumps out of the blocks before the regular fall season begins with a two-hour premiere Monday night at 8 on KCPQ/13, encoring Thursday at 8. To succeed, the series needs to draw out its prison stint as much as possible, building us up to the great escape. So why was I stifling the urge to scream "JUST BREAK OUT ALREADY!" halfway through the third episode? Think of this as tough love; as I said, the first hour was enough to give me high hopes. "Prison Break" channels more of the energy and feel of "24" than "Oz" -- a relief if you couldn't stomach the HBO series' use of excrement as weapons, a poverty if you watched it for the stupendous acting. Fox River State Penitentiary is full of hot cons, not the least of whom is Lincoln Burrows ("John Doe's" Dominic Purcell). Linc's a disappointment to his 15-year-old son LJ (Marshall Allman), who starts acting out in a ludicrous, "Scared Straight" subplot that's the least of his problems. Linc "The Sink's" main worry, other than having a stupid nickname, is that he's sentenced to die in a matter of months for the murder of the vice president's brother. He maintains his innocence, while a couple of guys wearing sunglasses and dark suits want to make sure nobody stops him from frying. Don't you love the scent of conspiracy in the evening? His brother, Michael Scofield (Wentworth Miller), thinks it smells like a rat. And wouldn't you know it, he's a structural engineer who has the blueprints for the prison and, therefore, an intricate plan to bust bro out of the joint. Even before Michael holds up a bank to get himself imprisoned, he sets his sights on John Abruzzi (Peter Stormare), a mob heavy, and Charles Westmoreland (Muse Watson), a kitty-hugger who may or may not be an infamous skyjacker. Michael also targets Dr. Sara Tancredi (Sarah Wayne Callies), who runs the prison infirmary, and relies on his lawyer, Linc's ex-girlfriend Veronica Donovan (Robin Tunney), to connect the conspiracy's links on the outside. An unexpected bonus comes when Warden Pope (Stacy Keach) takes a protective shine to the newbie. That may be difficult to comprehend, given the way Miller plays Michael. When the inmates call him "Fish," which sounds more forced each time someone says it, you'd think he got that moniker because Miller plays him with such an emotionless chill. The actor may be striving for the detached cool of a mastermind flying under the radar; instead, his portrayal comes off as flat and mechanical, especially when he falls back into it after severe physical trauma. Isn't prison supposed to take a toll on people? And yet, "Prison Break" opens with a superb setup. The pilot's payoff reveals a surprise I won't ruin, beyond saying that this is a series for puzzle nuts, inviting us to connect the dots through computer graphic interludes that swoop through possible escape routes -- the prison air ducts, sewage pipes and walls. As Michael tells Linc, every move, variable and contingency has been planned for. But as Linc tries to tell Michael, prison life defies all contingency plans, a fact that would add some exciting twists to the plot if this version of life inside wasn't a fat snooze. As I said, nobody expects Fox River to be "Oz." But for a population that's supposed to be filled with hopeless recidivists, they sure are softies, save for a quickie race riot to keep the blood moving. Michael's cellmate, Sucre (Amaury Nolasco), a hardened thief, is a sensitive lug who writes love letters to his girlfriend, cutely asking if passion is spelled with an H. Even the resident rape hound projects the threat factor of a gnat. And the conspiracy? We defy you to figure out where it starts or where it's going, because by the end of the second week's episode we still don't get much to gnaw on, regardless of how frantic Tunney begins to look. At that point, Linc has about four weeks to live, which look like they're going to feel like dog years. Someone needs to kick this thing in the pants but quick. It could happen. On Sept. 5, the drama settles into its regular timeslot of Mondays at 9, where it airs until baseball grants it a furlough -- in a sense; the network intends to air repeats before airing six new episodes at the end of October. We hope the writers spike the plot with a little crank between now and then. Programming executives should consider threatening them with shivs. Whatever it takes to get the job done. seattlepi.com Notes and references